Showing Up in Pajamas is Better than not Showing Up at All

emptyness

The string quartet swayed together, their bodies rolling with each beat of Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring, drawing me step by step down the aisle. My heart pumped in time with my feet, carrying me body and soul, closer and closer to this man I love, until we stood face to face, our breath intertwined, whispering “I Do”.

“I Do” has been my refrain to life’s lyrics. The verses are simple:

Do you want to marry me?

Do you want to move to another state?

Do you want to have another baby?

Do you want to be a stay at home mom?

I’ve sung each line with enthusiasm and gratefulness, at the top of my lungs when the days were full of grace, or muttered under my breath when the tempo became too frantic. I absorbed the sounds of Raffi & Karyn Henley’s voices, let them play all day while we danced and sang. I listened to the hum of bouncing seats and wind-up swings, rumbling random giggles, races through the house, and silly made-up stories. Each day was filled with so much noise, I coveted the small moments of silence between naps and bedtime, cherished the stillness. Those moments gave me just enough time to rest and recover, get ready for the next set.

But now all I hear is the purr of the coffee pot and the tick-tick-tick of the clock above my desk. I am lost in the silence, trying to write new lyrics, desperately wanting to dance to a new beat. The simple refrain of “I Do” still falls from my lips, but the verses have changed:

Do you miss being a mommy of preschoolers?

Do you have a hard time finding fulfillment in your day?

Do you struggle to find contentment?

I was prepared for being a young mom, surrounded by toys and tots, a season of Allegro. I was not prepared for these Adagio days, shuffling around an empty house, feeling trapped in a Grand Pause, waiting for the conductor to swing his baton down, and start the music again.

This post was inspired by TRDC’s RemembeRed memoir writing prompt.This week’s prompt asked us to write about a time that rhythm, or a lack thereof, played a role in your life. And don’t use the word “rhythm.”